


Pack the Good and Leave the Rest

by rivlee



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Discussion of PTSD, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Have you ever seen the Grand Canyon?</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before they even leave New York, Steve tells Sam it's not just about finding Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack the Good and Leave the Rest

_When do we start?_

_Now._

Sam Wilson had excelled in his survivalist training courses. He knew how to stretch one MRE for two whole days. He knew how to live with just the clothes on his back, how to weigh the needs vs the wants, to sleep in night desert cold with just his uniform because someone else needed more warmth, and how to make tourniquets and bandages from strips of uniform. After he retired, he’d grown used to his routine back home as its own sort of salvation. He never felt without a mission really, not when there were people who still needed rescuing from the battles their minds still fought. He was proud to offer the kind of helping hand that no one was comfortable talking about; it was so much easier to talk about soldiers as numbers while ignoring the fact that each veteran lived their own war and they never stopped just because they took the uniform off. 

It was easier to talk about the politics of invasion than the fact that no matter the war, or the form of service, or the age or gender of the soldier, the war always, _always_ came home. Sam understood and knew he could help the people who struggled to keep their heads above water. He didn’t like to be outside of communication these days, not when there were people who knew they could call him at all hours if they just needed some fraying thread to grasp onto or to just hear another live human being breathe.

Sam knew a thing or two but having to put the ghosts to sleep.

He needed to pack at least two chargers and a back-up battery for his phone. He threw a week’s worth of clothes in his bag and grabbed his razor kit and toothbrush. He laughed at himself as he looked at the Spinbrush in his hand. Little luxuries like battery-powered toothbrushes—that’s what he’d grown used to over the past few years. 

He gave his bedroom one last look, nodded to the picture of his family on his nightstand, and took a moment to breathe. It was time to move on. He had little doubt that _someone_ would toss the place once they were gone. He’d noticed more unknown subjects trawling the neighborhood as Natasha testified on the news. The press hounds were the least of Sam Wilson's worries. 

Sometimes the best thing to do was run. 

Steve was at his breakfast table, flipping through Barnes’ file one more time as Bruno Mars sang about taking a grenade for someone. Sam quickly switched the music off.

“We’ll find him,” Steve said more to himself than Sam.

“Even if he doesn’t want to be found?” Sam asked.

Steve’s shoulders tensed, proof enough that he refused to accept that outcome. “I left him behind once. Never again.”

Sam nodded, understood, and had lived by that idea even when it proved impossible. “Never leave a man behind.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He stood up, pushing in the chair with all his good manners, and turned to Sam. “You ready to go? I can drive. I don’t sleep much.”

“Do you even need to?” Sam asked.

Steve laughed. “Not as much as you.” He held out his hand for Sam’s bag. “Let me get that for you. Least I can do since I’m making you leave your home and car behind.”

“You’re not _making_ me do anything, Steve,” Sam said. He wanted to make this as clear as possible now before any _ideas_ planted firm roots. “You don’t owe me anything, and I’m not looking at you like some grand adventure. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. I’m doing this because you _need_ someone at your back, and I’m doing this because if we find your friend, it might be better to have a stranger to talk to than someone who intimately knows his past.”

Steve’s soft smile of gratitude was nothing but beautiful in the afternoon light coming through the kitchen. “You’re something else, Sam Wilson.”

“Yeah, look who’s talking,” Sam said. 

They switched cars just over the border into Maryland. Sam spied a Stark logo on Steve’s apparently magic key that could open and turn on the ignition for a series of hidden cars. He tried not to dwell on just _who_ Steve knew. 

Steve slid into the driver’s seat while Sam turned the radio on. He laughed to himself as _One of These Nights_ started. 

“How’s that for perfect,” he said.

Steve frowned at him. “Is this a test?”

“Nah, man, it’s classic rock. The Eagles—add them to your list. You’ll be able to use it as topic of conversation in the hole-in-the-wall run-down bars we’re surely going to be stumbling across.”

Sam kept the volume low, knowing Steve could hear it clear enough anyway, and curled up into his seat. He let Don Henley croon him to sleep as they passed the miles on the road. 

*********

They started in Brooklyn, back to old memories and older haunts. Sam tried to picture Steve walking these streets before the Army got a hold of him. Did he swagger? Did he slump his shoulders inward? Did he look up or down or straight forward? Was he a little punk of a kid? What was his world like before Pearl Harbor? Before the US entered the war? Was Steve one of those newsboys? Fuck, the only had forty-eight states back then. 

Sam sat up as he realized just how little he knew about the man sitting next to him. He knew he could trust him with his life though, and that was enough.

“Looks like home?” Sam asked.

“Not even a little bit,” Steve said. “My old parish is now an art gallery. My apartment building was bulldozed decades ago for a row of shops.”

“They paved paradise and put up a parking lot,” Sam said. “You know, you’d think some historical registry group would be up in arms about knocking down Captain America’s apartment building.”

Steve shrugged. “Wasn’t much to save, I’m sure. Bucky and I weren’t exactly living in luxury. Peggy tracked down the important stuff and kept it safe. I took my mom’s wedding ring and rosary with me when I went into Basic. That’s all that really mattered. The rest was just four walls and a shared bathroom with the entire floor, you know? That don’t make much of a home.”

“Naw, it’s about the people in it,” Sam agreed. “So if nothing around here looks like your old streets, why start here?”

“Maybe we’re not just looking for Bucky,” Steve said. He pulled out of traffic and perfectly parallel parked outside of a café. “Can I get you a cup of coffee, Sam? Best beans in Brooklyn.”

Sam shook his head and got out of the car. He stretched his arms over his head, watching Steve watch him. “You gonna go get me a cup of coffee with two sugars and one cream or are you’re going to stand there and just watch?”

“Two sugars, one cream,” Steve repeated. “Gone soft there, soldier?”

Sam leaned on the hood of the car. “How red do you want to turn right now? Because I have a whole bag of comebacks for that one.”

Steve ducked his head and headed into the café. Sam let himself bask in victory.

*********

They switched cars again in Manhattan. Steve was quiet as he led them into a non-descript building, past a security guard who pretended not to notice them, and into one of the nicest damn automobiles Sam had ever laid his eyes upon.

“Did Natasha set all this up for you? Or was it Hill?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I—uh—sort of have a friend who gave it to me. He likes to upgrade everything, you could say. I may have done a little traveling on my bike and he said I needed to advance to four wheels and real style. He gave this to me a few months ago, but I never saw the need for it in D.C. or here in the city. Seems roomier than a sedan, especially if we have to spend the night in it.”

“Stark, right?” Sam asked.

Steve looked up in surprise before he let out a breath. “I forget sometimes, that my life is on the front page.”

“Part of it at least,” Sam said. “If it makes you feel any better, I really don’t give a shit. I got your back, Rogers regardless of if you hang out with millionaires and that one scientist who destroyed my aunt’s apartment building in Harlem.”

“Bruce is really sorry about that, just so you know. Stark may have asked about upgrading the flight packs. I may have mentioned I know a test pilot, though I think Rhodey is first in line.”

“Officers always get to play with the cool toys before the enlisted.” He hip checked Steve away from the driver’s side door. “My turn. You haven’t slept in two days and no offense, but I don’t want to die on some two-lane highway outside Podunkville, Pennsylvania because Steve Rogers thinks he has to be Captain America strong. Just tell me where to point the wheel. If this trip isn’t _just_ about finding Barnes, I suppose the question is north, south, east, or west?”

“Have you ever seen the Grand Canyon?” Steve asked. 

*********

Sam picked a route that would take take longer by miles and hours, with a quick drive through the Blue Ridge Parkway. He figured Steve should see just what the Works Progress Administration and the Civilian Conservation Corps wrought. 

It was still kind of a mindfuck to think the man sleeping beside him was older than the interstate they were driving on. 

For now they were still in Pennsylvania, just passing Harrisburg, and they were starting to lose the light. _What’s Going On?_ trickled through the speakers when Steve finally woke up from his three-hour power nap. He looked disoriented for only a moment before he shook himself. 

“On your left,” Sam said.

“Funny,” Steve said. “Marvin Gaye?” he asked with a nod to the speakers.

“Very good, Rogers. You win today’s Recognition of Motown’s Best Award.”

“Not the happiest of songs,” Steve said.

“Marvin Gaye didn’t have the happiest of lives,” he agreed. “You read up on Vietnam yet?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Still making my way through all the films, though.”

“Yeah, _Born of the Fourth of July_ isn’t going to be a film about you, sorry, man. This song deals with a Vet coming home. The 70s were a rough time.” Sam shook his head as he thought about it. “I guess each decade is rough, really, when you look back on them. Sometimes it seems like in our celebration of the nostalgia and the pop culture, and the atheistic we forget some of the deeper shit. How many poor, young kids just like me had to die because they couldn’t avoid the draft by going to college? Then they come back home and some of those same college kids attacked them for wearing a uniform. Hell, the Vets themselves formed an organization protesting the war while it was still going on. Don’t get me wrong, Steve, _every_ decade was fucked up, but the 1960s and 70s? Talk about your cultural change.”

“They said America lost its innocence. That’s what I read in one of those books. Camelot fell, though I don’t think we ever really had it. Fuck, Sam, we buried babies every week in my neighborhood. We were just a bunch of stupid punk kids when Pearl Harbor happened. Bucky signed-up before his number got called. We all wanted to after December 7th. Worst feeling in the world at the time to be 4-F. We were citizen soldiers, you know? A bunch of stupid kids who had no idea what we were getting into. I know the world’s changed, and how wars are fought, but some things, they never really change. You’re not fighting for the ideal of American victory once you’re in it, you’re fighting for the guy or girl next to you.”

“One of the things people not in the shit will never understand,” Sam said. 

“You choose to join though,” Steve said. 

Sam thought back on that decision, years before anyone would’ve believed something 9/11 could happen on American soil. 

“I needed help paying for college, and I had the vision requirements down for Air Force. It seemed better than flipping burgers and praying I could make rent and pay tuition. Some pararescue guys came to talk to us during Basic and that was that.” He quickly glanced at Steve and reveled in the warm smile on his face. “What about you? Did you really try to lie your way into the service?”

Steve’s laugh was more a surprised bark. “More times than I will admit to, and more times than even the SSR had on file.”

“Little blond badass, huh?”

“Just pull over somewhere so we can eat.”

The diner looked like something out of at 1950s-themed movie set with _Jailhouse Rock_ blaring as they pushed open the door. It was a theme place, with the wait staff in costume and paper hats, and Sam had to wonder if their waitress’ name really was Flo. She showed them to a booth though, and didn’t seem to recognize Steve, so Sam considered it a gift.

Granted Steve didn’t look very _Captain America_ with a day’s worth of beard growth and messy hair. He still wore a white t-shirt and jeans like it was a second uniform, but the sneakers and red hoodie—wait.

“How is it you’re _still_ wearing your uniform colors?” Sam asked.

Steve looked down. “Natasha said this would look good on me.” He frowned and toyed with the menu. “We had to lose a tail in the mall so she made me buy clothes.”

Sam laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes as _Rock Around the Clock_ started. 

*********

They stopped for the night and a shower at in some motel straight out of a murder movie in West Virginia. Steve was devouring a bag of white cheddar popcorn while Sam flipped through the channels.

“So, why aren’t we retracing all of Bucky’s steps from before all that bullshit went down.”

“Because that would probably cause an international incident, and I need to go at least two weeks before doing that again,” Steve said. He threw the empty bag in the trash can and went to go wash his hands.

“You want to explain that, Rogers?” Sam asked. 

“Bucky went to Camp Lehigh after he signed up, and we know that’s destroyed. After that it was a boat to North Africa then Sicily and then eventually up to Monte Cassino in Italy.”

“No D-Day drop for you? Can’t believe that with the way you throw yourself out of planes.”

“We weren’t paratroopers,” Steve said. He grinned. “Sorry, Sam. I got my parachutist badge from a more _personal_ mission.”

“I could’ve sworn I read a story about you being there.”

Steve shrugged. “I think, over time, the comic books merged with reality. They were good cover stories for the Howling Commandos missions. People needed to believe what they wanted to believe. Hell, Sam, I wasn’t even the only war hero with a comic book back then. You remember John Basilone?”

“Manila John? Yeah, I’ve had an old timer or two talk about him.”

“Even then they still had to sell the war to folks back home. I wore tights and sang and danced on stage in front of men who just watched their buddies get killed—there one second and gone the next. I punched out a fake Hitler in front of nurses who had held the hands of kids who looked like their husbands or sons or baby brothers, until they bled out and died. The senators were trying to sell the war to kids still fighting it. So, yeah, like I said earlier. Things haven’t changed that much in some regards.”

“It’s just how the world remembers you,” Sam said. He fiddled with the remote and sighed. “Fuck, this is depressing, man. Let’s see if we can find some cartoons, Christ.”

*********

Sam clapped along to _Jack & Diane_ as they drove through some two-stop-light town, belly still full from a platter of pancakes and bacon. Steve looked at him with a shy smile and wide eyes. He started humming along, catching the chorus as it rolled around again. He had a nice voice, not as deep a timber as Sam’s, but pleasant all the same.

“It’s a thing, you know, in combat to sing like, every song you know to calm the nerves.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said. “Music’s changed, but not the reason for it.”

Sam slipped his sunglasses on as the morning sun hit them through the windshield. Steve was driving, so he didn’t feel bad about leaning back and crooning out.

_Oh yeah, life goes on. Long after the thrill of living is gone._

*********

One of the first songs Sam remembered his mom singing to him was _Why Do Fools Fall in Love_. Every time he heard it he remembered the comfort and love she put into each soft note as she winked at him and danced around their tiny kitchen. His parents loved to sing, and his childhood was filled with music. It became something that helped him cope with everything from studying to a test to pressing down on a wound to keep someone alive. 

Music might not have been able to save your soul, but it helped to get to the end of each day. 

Sam was flipping through the stations as they crossed into Tennessee when he crowed in delight. 

“Oh, this one you _so_ have to hear, Captain America.” Sam turned the volume up as the first few notes of Don McLean’s _American Pie_ started to play.

“Stark plays this one whenever I’m around. Nice try though, Falcon. I _have_ been in this world for two years now.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear your mocking over the sounds of awesome coming through the speakers,” Sam said. “I’d play you some James Brown, but that might just floor you.”

“Can’t you just find and play these songs whenever you want?” Steve asked. 

Sam shrugged. “There’s a certain sort of magic, you know, when you’re flipping through radio stations and you find _that_ song. Yeah, I could hit shuffle on my iPod or Stark Player, but it’s not the same.”

“Never pegged you for a man of serendipity, Sam.”

“God fucks with plans,” Sam said. 

Steve raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. He hit the search button and Sam almost ran off the road when _Hot in Herre_ pounded through the speakers, the bass making the windows rattle.

“See,” Sam said. “Magic.”

Sam had seen lily pale white boys go cooked-lobster-red under the hot sun during training, but he’d still never seen anyone go as red as Steve Rogers when the chorus came around. 

*********

There was no way they were passing through Memphis without stopping for barbecue, and Steve didn’t argue the second he _smelled_ the air outside of Corky’s. 

“Jesus,” Steve said. 

Sam laughed. “Now _that_ is the face of a man in love.”

They ended up staying in Memphis for two whole days.

When they left Sam did plug his Stark player into the console. He quickly shuffled through until he got to a song he knew would keep that soft smile on Steve’s face. 

_The Rules of the Road_ started and Steve turned to Sam with grateful eyes. “How did you know I love Lena Horne?”

“You crashed at my house for a week and watched _Stormy Weather_ three times. Call it an educated guess.”

*********

They were almost to Oklahoma and The Temptations had just finished _I Can’t Get Next To You_ when Sam dared to approach the Bucky question again. 

“I fully support the actual journey to self we’re currently taking, but can I ask why the Grand Canyon when you’re still thumbing through that file? You know that one that will force us to cause many an international incident.”

“Bucky and I always talked about going to the Grand Canyon. Your squad was based out of Nevada. I’ve been told I need to see Las Vegas too. I’ve never been to the West Coast, Bucky never made it out this far _before_. Take your pick.”

“Dealer's choice, is it? How very _Go West, Young Man_ ,” Sam said. “That’s the—”

“Village People, I know,” Steve said. “Natasha was very insistent on me knowing their songs. She said all Americans of a certain age know the YMCA dance and I should try to fit in.”

“I was going to say Horace Greeley, but you’re just a man of revelations. At least she didn’t teach you the Macarena.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “That was also part of my education. Along with the Electric Slide.”

“Are there pictures?” Sam asked.

“None you’re going to get your hands on,” Steve said. He switched the radio station and stopped at the next song. “This sounds nice.”

Sam had to pull over when Steve flinched as _Enter Sandman_ started in earnest. He didn’t want to get a ticket for reckless driving caused by laughing his ass off at Captain America discovering Metallica.

*********

If nothing else came from this road trip, Sam would count this as as one of the best moments of his life: teaching Steve Rogers the _stomp-stomp-clap_ of Queen’s _We Will Rock You_ in the parking lot of a Holiday Inn somewhere in New Mexico.

"You know, my friend Thor landed in a desert somewhere around here."

"Between that and Roswell, I don't think we can argue against aliens in New Mexico."

Steve took Sam's arm and gave it a tight squeeze. "The truth is out there, Samuel."

"When did you have time to watch _The X-Files_?"

*********

It turned out Natasha had also taught Steve how to salsa and all the words to _Livin’ la Vida Loca_. Sam had a feeling he’d just learned more about Natasha than he was ever supposed to know, but it was nice to think of her liking something so _normal_ for an elite assassin. The fact that Steve also knew all the words to _I Want It That Way_ and _Bye, Bye, Bye_ proved that Natasha either had an obsession with late-90s pop music, or she was very close to someone who did. 

"Clint," Steve said as he ate an ice cream cone with all the grace of a five-year-old. "He'll deny it, but it's all Hawkeye."

"M*A*S*H?" Sam asked.

"No, Barton," Steve said. 

 

*********

Steve loved Motown and stadium rock. He might’ve flinched at Metallica, but he was right there beside Sam singing at the top of his lungs to _Livin’ on a Prayer_. Prince was also a favorite, and though Sam had worried _When Doves Cry_ would’ve hit a little too close to home, Steve preferred _Little Red Corvette_ anyway, even if he _never_ wanted to hear the story of assless chaps and the MTV Video Music Awards again. 

When _Smooth Criminal_ came on as they crossed over the state border between New Mexico and Arizona, Sam turned the volume up.

“Like all kids in the 80s I was _obsessed_ with Michael Jackson; Janet too. Guess I still am, really. Last Halloween I dressed up in my best white fedora and suit to match this video.”

Steve gave him a long look. “You got pictures of that?”

“If you’re good,” Sam said. 

That night, in the middle of nowhere, they pulled off onto one of the scenic overlooks and watched the sky. Outkast’s _Ms. Jackson_ played low on the radio when Steve nudged Sam in the ribs.

“Got something you need to say?” Sam asked. 

Steve’s eyes were a heavy, but comfortable, weight as they looked straight at him. “You ever going to do something about all those looks you give me?”

Sam hadn’t exactly aimed for _subtle_ , but he didn’t think there was too much hope with a guy still so caught up in saving the memory of another man. 

“Thought your dance card was full. I’m not planning on taking another guy’s date home.”

“No other guy has asked me,” Steve said.

“Not even Bucky?” Sam asked.

“Nope,” Steve said. 

“Well, how about that,” Sam said as he leaned over to meet Steve’s lips. 

**************

Neither Sam nor Steve could sleep in total silence, so Sam left his Stark Player on. _A Change is Gonna Come_ filled the cracks of the quiet as Steve talked about his war. 

Sam understood loss. He understood that bittersweet taste of turning to share a joke with nothing but a ghost and a gaping hole left at his side. He knew what regret and lost opportunities felt like, but he also knew that couldn’t compare to going back to life seventy years after the world passed on. A world that still saw you mostly as a legacy rather than a real person. Steve’s ability to adjust to that, to still mak it through each day even if he had to be a ball of confusion and repressed issues, was far more impressive than any act of brute strength a super-serum could create. 

“They didn’t call it PTSD back then,” Steve said. “It was battle fatigue or the twenty-yard-state. You stick a bunch of kids in foxholes getting bombed at every five minutes without proper gear or chow and you expect them to come out of it in-tact as you sit back at battalion doling out orders far from enemy lines. I always had a problem with taking orders from men who never knew a dirty uniform and were okay with having seventeen year olds kill on their orders. I was angry about it then, and I’m still angry about it now.”

“I don’t think it ever goes away,” Sam said. “I don’t think it’s really supposed to, you know. We’re trained to be killers, but to be humans walking around in civilian society we’ve got to act like we don’t know how to do it, that we haven’t done those things.” He cupped the back of Steve’s head where it rested on Sam’s chest and massaged his scalp. “It’s okay to mourn what you’ve lost of _yourself_ , along with all the people and years gone. I just think you need to hear that; that it’s _okay_.”

Sam could feel Steve’s tears run hot, and silent, staining his shirt. Steve didn’t say anything, Sam didn’t either. He just held on tighter.

**************

Sam was out buying breakfast from a corner store in Arizona when he turned and slammed into a body. 

“Sorry—holy shit.”

Bucky Barnes didn’t look the Winter Soldier, except for the shadow in and under his eyes. He was clean-shaven with short hair and wearing a button-down flannel and torn jeans. He gestured to the street outside with leather-gloved hands.

“Can we?”

“Depends. Do you have a knife on you?” Sam asked.

“Always,” Bucky said. “That’s non-negotiable. I won’t pull your ass out of the sky again, though.”

“Yeah, you owe me a set of wings, buddy.”

“Hydra does at least,” Bucky said. He stopped talking long enough to pay for his bottle of water and pack of bubblegum, giving the cashier a sweet smile before meeting Sam at the door.

“How long have you been here?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been following you since Manhattan,” Bucky said.

“What were you doing in Manhattan?” Sam asked.

“What were you doing in Brooklyn?” Bucky countered. 

Sam looked down the street to the B&B they’d picked for the night. “Does Steve know you’ve been following us?”

“Probably. Might’ve thought he was losing his mind. I tried to stay hidden.” Bucky looked down at his hands. “I have some questions and I think Steve might have some of the answers. I’m not—I’m trying to just stay stable and he’s a thread, you know?”

“Well, you look good,” Sam said. He knew just how much it took to fake a held-together appearance for the sake of the world, but how it could also be the only thing that kept your head above water.

“Whole world’s after the Winter Soldier. I had to ditch the look. Walk don’t run, they taught me,” Bucky said. “You work with Vets, right?”

It was a sudden transition, but Sam didn’t question it. “I do,” he said.

“I’m having trouble sorting out what’s real memory and what’s implanted. What’s really here and what’s just in my head. Finding Steve is still its own mission and that keeps me pointing north—or west as the case may be. It’s a focus.”

“And you’re scared to find out what happens when that mission’s complete,” Sam said.

Bucky looked up at him, eyes so young and scared for the briefest of seconds before they turned back to old and hard. “Wouldn’t you be, if you were me?”

“You saved him,” Sam said.

“I saved the one thing that was making a siren blare in my head. I saved the person that was making noise in the silence, bleeding color into the grey. I didn’t know _Steve_ until three weeks ago. I still don’t know what’s just from my intel gathering and what’s from what I might remember.”

Sam had a feeling Bucky’s instincts were the only thing keeping him at even a semblance of steady right now. He wasn’t about to let the man slip through their fingers, or lose himself when he'd come this far. 

“What does Steve make you _feel_? Not as a mission, just when you look at him? Think of his smile? That little head duck he does when he’s embarrassed and pleased at the same time?”

“Never did know how to take a compliment,” Bucky said. His eyes drifted down to the B&B where Steve still slept in one of the beds. “He makes me feel like crossing home plate after making an inside the park home run, bottom of the ninth with two-outs.”

“And yet you’re out here talking to _me_.”

Bucky gave him a long, speculative look. “You feel safe.”

Sam’s text alert went off and he checked it. Steve, of course. 

“Hey, Barnes, you ever seen the Grand Canyon?”


End file.
